


down on my knees

by thisissirius



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Mind Manipulation, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 18:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: “Caleb, I think you should attack your friends.”





	down on my knees

**Author's Note:**

> so this campaign, my favourite disaster wizard, and this pairing have got me on _my_ knees. 
> 
> an anon came into my ask box with _One of my favourite quotes is "I decided when I heard his voice." Could you work this into a Widofjord prompt?_ and this happened. 
> 
> i love d&d so much and playing with later level spells and how they might affect caleb where trent is concerned? yeah, i couldn't resist. sorry.

 

“Caleb, I think you should attack your friends.”

It’s a Suggestion.

Caleb knows it as soon as the words are out of Trent’s mouth, his smug smile etched into Caleb’s eidetic memory.

“No,” Caleb says, desperate to fight. His arms wrap around his torso, fingers clutched into his coat. His hands are so powerful when he needs them to be, but he will not

                                    he will not harm

                          harm his

friends.

Trent's controlled him before, he couldn't fight it then, and as the familiar crippling doubt and despair consume his mind, a comfortable haze settles around Caleb like a blanket. Trent’s smile is wicked, sends a shiver down his spine, but Caleb turns to look over his shoulder. A wall of fire stands between Caleb and his friends, but getting to them feels like the most important thing in the world.

“Don’t Caleb!” It’s Nott, struggling in the arms of a crownsguard, a knife held to her throat. She’s biting, fighting, and Caleb looks her dead in the eye.  _Attack your friends_. His fingers flex, a crackle of magic dancing over his fingers and Nott’s eyes widen, her ears flat to her head. He fires off an orb of sickly green energy. It hits the crownsguard and Nott, fizzles against them. “ _Caleb_.”

Through the flames the sound of fighting cuts through his concentration, a clash of swords and fists and magic. It’s a cacophony of noise that overwhelms Caleb’s senses and he struggles to think of a spell that will get the job done so that he can get back to fighting Trent.

 _Attack your friends,_ then Trent.

Caleb’s trusty diamond is clutched in his hand and he calls on the knowledge he’d gleaned not three days prior. (He’d been resting against Fjord, the scratch of his ink across the parchment the only noise in the room. Fjord’s hands in his hair, the press of a kiss to his neck, the warmth Fjord always envelopes him in.) The diamond seems to grow a second skin, white crystal smothering the surface. It expands and shatters, exploding into icy fragments with the diamond settling back into his palm. The ice grows, huge boulders spinning in a perfect cylinder. His mouth curves up into a smile as the fire wall shimmers and dies, the cylinder of ice threateningly close to the Mighty Nein.

Beset by Trent’s minions, they’re scattered, but Caleb doesn’t need to draw them all. He just has to  _attack your friends._ Friends. Caleb shudders, unclenches his fist and the cylinder thunders forward, into the fray.

“ _Caleb!”_

Jester’s a flurry of blue and gold, two of her dancing amongst the crownsguard, but Caleb knows her spells, knows which she favours, which she chooses to employ only in times of stress. He knows all of them, something Trent will know, and Caleb's skin crawls as he lets the cone of ice hover in the air above her, above Kiri and Molly. The ice falls and his friends scatter, Jester tumbling to her left. Kiri lets out a high pitched screech and barrels into Molly, who ducks out of the way.

 _Trent_ , Caleb thinks, but  _friends_.

A sword in Caleb’s periphery and Molly’s shout of, “NO!”

Caleb turns, Yasha’s arm poised with her blade, halted at the last minute by Molly’s shout.

“Caleb,” she says, and her expression is pained. Caleb thinks he should care, wants to care, but he unclenches the fist around the diamond, a green-tinged ball of chrome hits Yasha dead in the chest, burning a part of her furs and sending her tumbling away from him.

Trent’s laugh echoes through Caleb’s head, and Caleb grits his teeth.

“Please, Caleb,” Beau says, stance defensive and eyes flicking from Caleb to over his shoulder. “Don’t make me do this.”

Caleb doesn’t know why she’s sad; Trent is no match for their combined skills, and if they just, "let me do this, please."

Beau’s eyes widen, her stance falters. “You’re stronger than him.”

A heavy feeling settles in Caleb’s stomach, and he clenches his hands into fists, the diamond cutting into his palm. “You know I am not.”

With a skin of stone, there is little Beau can do to him, especially now she herself is faltering, but she launches at him anyway. Her fist connects with his face, snapping his head to the left. She follows it up with a kick, but instead of knocking Caleb off balance, she sends herself sprawling backward, feet sliding in the dirt, hand to the ground.

_Attack your-_

_"I KNOW!”_ Caleb wants to drop to the ground, hands pressed to his head but they crackle with the energy of a myriad of spells that he wants to cast at Trent. They falter, a build up desperate for a release. Caleb looks to Beau, to Yasha, to Molly. Jester and Kiri are stumbling over to Nott, trying to help her. Yasha is headed for Trent, who will hurt her in  _seconds_ unless Caleb does something.

“We’re not friends.”

Caleb’s heart lurches and Fjord stands before him, falchion drawn, eyes narrowed dangerously. The energy around Caleb’s hands flares to life and he could just attack now, attack his friend and they’ll be fine, they can

“We’re not friends,” Fjord says, and there’s a hard edge to his voice that cuts through Caleb's thoughts. 

“Please,” Caleb says, throat raw. He feels like he’s been screaming for an age. 

Fjord’s falchion is at his side, no attack stance. Though he’s scowling, there’s a sadness to his eyes that makes Caleb shudder. 

 _I can't,_ he wants to say, words sticking in his throat.  _Please don't make me, Fjord._

“Caleb,” Trent says, his voice cutting effortlessly through the noise. There’s a strangled yell from Yasha and Caleb wants to close his eyes and sleep, the guilt and pain overwhelming, he wants to join his friends and stop Trent, but he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. 

“Look at me,” Fjord says again. His voice. So many times he’s touched Caleb’s face, said  _I love you_  so easily, even when Caleb doesn’t deserve it. Caleb never deserves it, doesn’t know how to, “Cay.”

 _Cay_.  _Attack your friends. We’re not friends._ Cay.

“We’re not friends.” Caleb meets Fjord’s eyes. There’s a flicker on Fjord’s face; hope, or something like it. 

“You’ve never been friends,” Molly says, blade to blade with a crownsguard. 

“Friends is not a word I would choose,” Jester calls. 

“Definitely not friends.” Nott. 

“What are we?” Caleb asks, head pounding. He stares down at his clenched fists, one dripping red.  _Attack your friends_ , Trent said, but if he and Fjord aren’t friends. 

“I love you, Cay.” Fjord’s eyes shift from Caleb to Trent. “Attack your friends, but we’re not friends.”

Caleb gives a full body shudder. They weren't friends. They were so much more.

“ _Caleb_ ,” Trent yells again, and there’s a crackle of energy, an edge of anger to his voice. “I think you should sleep.”

Outraged yells from Beau and Yasha, but Caleb’s already fighting Trent’s voice sliding into his consciousness.

His palm doesn’t hurt. His head doesn’t hurt. A void, he thinks, where feeling should be. It’s been so long and he’s so tired, he just wants this to be done. Collapsing to his knees, Caleb drops the diamond to the floor. Exhaustion is a constant companion and Caleb just wants to be done.

Fjord yells, “Get him!”

There’s a beat, so much noise, but then Fjord’s cupping his face, looking him in the eye.

“You fight him, Caleb, do you hear me?”

“Ja,” Caleb says slowly, tongue heavy in his mouth. “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Fjord says, wrapping an arm around Caleb’s shoulders. “You can sleep later. I promise. Right now, I need you to fight him.”

Caleb desperately wants to close his eyes. He looks back over his shoulder, a flurry of grey, purple, blue, and green surrounds Trent and it’s good, Caleb thinks, his friends are fighting, even though he-

“ _Scheiße._ I attacked-” Caleb cuts himself off, strangled. He’s not a good person, he’s not, why does he keep doing this and -

"I love you, Caleb.”

“Stop,” Caleb whispers furiously, burying his face in Fjord’s shoulder. “Please stop.”

Fjord doesn’t, whispers the words over and over. Caleb’s exhaustion falls away and he clutches at Fjord’s armour. There’s a war in his head, Trent’s voice ricocheting around his skull, ordering him to sleep. Fjord’s voice is louder, a crescendo of  _I love you_  that threatens to break Caleb.

“He’s in my head.” Caleb pulls back, eyes wide as he stares up at Fjord. “He is never going to leave.”

A flash of green and something hits Caleb from behind, sending him slamming into Fjord, tumbling them both to the ground.

“I won’t let him.” Fjord’s grip his strong, his words loud and Caleb hardly dares hope

he can’t hope

can he?

“ _We_ won’t.”

Caleb looks.  _Sees_.

Beau’s a blur of motion.

Yasha’s blade is cutting through Trent’s illusions.

Kiri, Jester, Molly are teasing, darting, a synchronicity of dance.

Nott, the brave. Her sword to Trent’s throat, body wrapped around his head like a living cloak.

Fjord’s eyes honest and bright, his hands unwavering against Caleb’s face. “You’re stronger than he is.”

Caleb doesn’t believe it, can’t. There is too much he’s done, too many memories, and Trent helped, but he wasn’t totally responsible and now Caleb has done this. Attacked his friends, hurt them, and for what? “I’m not.”

“Yes,” Fjord says, unwavering. “You are.”

“I do not feel it,” Caleb admits, staring down at his palm, the blood, the diamond at his knees. “I feel as if my magic is no longer my own.”

Fjord grabs the diamond, holds it out. “Take it.”

Hand shaking, Caleb does, settles the white diamond amongst the smeared blood of his palm. “I attacked my friends. How can I be sure-”

“Don’t let him win.”

There is something -

“Your voice,” Caleb admits, pushing himself to his feet. Fjord follows, falchion poised, taut as a bowstring. Caleb feels as if he has the power to tell Fjord  _yes_  and he will, he’ll fight for Caleb. “It is louder.”

Fjord’s vibrating with energy, the same as he always does when they’re facing down a foe, but he accepts the way Caleb presses close, helps take Caleb’s weight. “I’ll keep talking if it’s what ya need.”

“Just you,” Caleb admits quietly. “And my friends.”

There will be later to fight his guilt, to deal with the overwhelming crush of feelings, but the longer he focuses on Fjord, protecting Fjord, using his magic to aid and protect his friends, Caleb will fight for as long as he’s able. 

Trent’s voice echoes, still, but Caleb does his best to erect a wall between Trent’s words and his own feelings. It has a distinct shape, a familiar face, and a voice that will always, always get through to Caleb in the worst of times.

“You ready?” 

For Fjord, Caleb will always try to be. “Ja.”

Then, before he can forget. 

“I love you.” 

Fjord stands just that little taller, already surging forward to help the rest of the Mighty Nein and this, Caleb thinks, is what he’s spent so long looking for.

Family.  

**Author's Note:**

> i talk more about critical role on [my critrole sideblog](https://widowgasting.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
